


The End of the Long Walk

by lwise2019



Series: Mikkel's Story [50]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24030349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwise2019/pseuds/lwise2019
Series: Mikkel's Story [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536739
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	The End of the Long Walk

Just about lunchtime, they came upon a collapsed building with ample bits of lumber lying about. Mikkel judged they would reach the outpost well before nightfall, even if they stopped to make a fire. Perhaps he was only making excuses for himself, but he thought they would make better time after a hot meal.

As he struggled to light the fire with his stiff cold fingers, the images rose before his mind's eye: Emil effortlessly lighting fires with a single match; Emil soot-smeared from burning down another building; Emil bringing him a load of firewood; Emil – He forced the images away, knowing they would return in the night. Pastor Anne had not been able to take _his_ ghosts to their long home.

Sigrun watched him as he silently fed tinder into the weak flames, building it up slowly. “I'm glad we hung onto the nuisance,” she said pensively. “I don't want to lose another non-immune. I never lost one before.”

He added larger sticks, built it up, sat back, staring at his scarred knuckles. The words wanted to come out.

> I have.
> 
> Three.
> 
> I was a courier for the General, taking a message to one of those mountain villages in Sweden. The road was patrolled and safe – they _said_ – and I joined a party as a guard. It was good cover for a courier.
> 
> There were three non-immunes and five immunes, six counting me. We didn't have a tank, of course, but still we should have been safe. A swarm like that should have been detected and destroyed. A lot of things _should_ have been.
> 
> I was asleep. It wasn't my watch and I was _asleep_ when all the screaming started.
> 
> They went for the non-immunes, of course. I tried to cut my way through to them but … but I was too late. They were torn apart … 
> 
> And then we were fighting for our own lives, and when all the trolls were dead … so was everyone else.
> 
> I built pyres all day and the patrol _finally_ showed up late afternoon. They burned the trolls at least.
> 
> I went on to deliver the message. It was my duty. And then … and then I went home to Bornholm.

He didn't tell her that he'd fought the last trolls with his bare hands, his dagger stuck in a troll's head, that he'd torn them apart as they'd torn the non-immunes apart in front of him. Troll-hunter though she was, there were some memories that she didn't need to share.

He didn't tell her that he never meant to be the only survivor of a party, not ever again.

“And so you became a farmer?”

“I grew up on the family farm. I just went home. But, well, I'm not a great farmer. I get bored.” _And the nightmares come when I don't have duty to drive them away._ “So I get a job every so often, but always somebody does something idiotic, and then I'm insolent and insubordinate about it, or I pull some prank on some jerk, and then I get fired.

“Oh, don't worry about it. It's something of a family tradition to be fired. They'd probably be disappointed in me if I managed to hang onto a job for a year.

“The family farm is large, but there are a lot of us. If I ever want a fa– a farm … of my own, where I can be my own boss, I have to buy one. And land costs a lot on Bornholm. This expedition is supposed to earn me enough.”

She stared at the fire in her turn. “I thought this expedition would be a nice vacation. I'm an idiot.”

“No. If the bridge hadn't collapsed … if we'd had enough food … if Reynir hadn't shown up … if we hadn't been blocked by that drift and had to go to that plaza … there are a lot of ifs. It could have been a nice vacation and we could have …” He couldn't finish. He couldn't say, “We could have all gone home.” The hurt was too new, too raw.

He busied himself with fixing their lunch.

* * *

As Mikkel had planned, they reached the outpost well before nightfall. He had to cut paths for them through the fences, which weakened their defenses but they didn't have much choice. There was likely wire inside that he could use to repair them. For now, he simply pulled them back together as best he could. The kitten went in first, prowling around diligently, and when they saw her sit down to clean her paws, they knew the outpost was clear.

They moved into the first bunkhouse they came to, and it had everything they had longed for: a fireplace; a shower; bunk beds; the incredible luxury of indoor plumbing; a generator that just needed some firewood for fuel …

While Sigrun and then Reynir took long hot showers, Mikkel set to work cleaning _everything_. The bunkhouse, with a decade's accumulation of dust and bugs, needed cleaning; so did all of their outdoor clothes along with their filthy indoor clothes. With a sigh, he also cleaned Emil and Lalli's spare clothes which he had brought along because, well, they were already packed. When the others were done and he'd taken his own shower, he even bathed the kitten, who was less than enthusiastic about the experience.

With everyone clean, their boots drying by the fire, and all their wet clothes hung on a clothesline strung across the room, he investigated the food situation. Though he had more soup, he would not serve that unless starvation was imminent. Fortunately the army had left cabinets full of canned food. Canned tuna fish. Nothing but canned tuna fish, now a decade old. Mikkel had a feeling that even his soup might possibly look … well, not _good_ , but at least edible, after they'd been eating old canned fish for a few days.

Opening a can, he had to wrinkle his nose at the stench but, as he explained to Reynir, “The taste might have deteriorated a fair amount, but it should still be edible.”

Digging in enthusiastically, the Icelander exclaimed, “After what I've had to eat on this journey, this tastes better than the best of summer feasts! Uh …” remembering to whom he was speaking, “N–no offense.”

“None taken,” Mikkel answered with resignation. The food _had_ been terrible. To Sigrun, already stretched out on a lower bunk, “And you. You need to eat something too, before you drift off. Food first, then rest. Your body can't heal without its nutrients.” But it seemed as if her body _was_ healing and she wasn't losing strength to an invisible wound. She had walked beside him, without excessive rest stops, all day long. 

Intuition struck him abruptly. _It was the ghosts. Somehow, it was the ghosts. They got their hooks in her somehow in the battle. We all assumed they were able to follow us because of **Reynir** , but it wasn't him. It was her! They'd latched onto her!_

He turned to look at her, dutifully spooning tuna fish into her mouth. Maybe he shouldn't bring that up. Let her recover fully, and then they might talk about it.

When Sigrun finished her can of tuna fish, he immediately gave her another. With an annoyed glance at him – she did _not_ like to be fussed over – she set to work on it. Halfway through, she paused, looking blankly at the wall. “I can't stop thinking about the two little guys.”

Mikkel, working on his own first can, sighed. “I know. It will be a while before any of us come to terms with losing them.” _She wanted to tie Lalli to the wheelbarry and bring him along by force and I persuaded her not to. We left Emil with him because **I** persuaded her. If we'd tied him up … he'd have got away, I'm sure, and maybe gotten killed anyway, but at least Emil would still be alive …_

“That's not it! I mean, I keep feeling like I've left them behind and they're still out there!”

It was a terrible thought. Had he left them to die? “You … think you might have been mistaken? About their fate?”

“No, I don't. There's no way they survived the scene I found. There were no tracks leading away from it anywhere. They were either eaten, or crushed, or drowned. Or all three. I know that for sure _in here._ But I _feel_ like I'm wrong _in here._ ”

She'd pointed at her head for her knowledge, but she'd gestured at the right side of her chest for her feelings. Before he could stop himself, he corrected, “Your heart is on the other side.”

She gave him a look of mingled annoyance and dismay but obediently moved her hand to the left side and continued, “In _here._ I can't get rid of that feeling.”

There was nothing much to say but, “I'm sorry. I'm sure it will fade over time.” She shrugged and went back to her supper.

Reynir, having wolfed down his third can before Mikkel finished his first, sighed heavily.

“Why the sighing?”

“Sorry, I just can't stop thinking about Emil and Lalli.”

“That seems to be on all of our minds now.”

“Yeah, I've been hoping that they're still alive, somehow …”

There was even less to be said to that. They were gone. Mikkel gave the rest of his can of tuna fish to the kitten in addition to the one she'd already had.

The evening was very quiet, and they all fell asleep early in the luxury of actual bunks. Mikkel woke from nightmares several times to listen to the others. Every time he awakened, there were still only two of them.


End file.
